Thom Goes to the Convent 2
by Googlepuss
Summary: The sequal to its popular predesesor. You don't need to have read the other. Funny stuff. Thomasina, formerly of Trebond, in in for more adventures while his sister is off adventuring!


Thom Goes to the Convent 2: Thom Goes to the Convent and the Ethical Crisis.

A/N: Okay, there's no point denying it anymore. We're having an ethical crisis. Sequels are the enemy. There is nothing worse than a not-originally-intended sequel. The Lion King 2: mortifying. The Little Mermaid 2: don't go there. Miss Congeniality 2: ridiculous. Buuuuut……… Buuuuuut!

Toy Story 2 was good. Empire Strikes Back was good. Barry Trotter and the Unnecessary Sequel was pure genius. So maybe… just maybe…

Okay, it has been decided! Even if it's garbage. Even though we know it will be garbage!

We mentioned it, you wanted it, and now it's finally here!

**Thom Goes to the Convent and the Ethical Crisis.**

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Thom's eyes gently fluttered open and he greeted the early morning air of his palace suite. His husband Sir Gareth of Naxen still slept peacefully beside him. As the palace watch called the hour, one before midday, Thom swung his legs out of bed and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Selecting a dress to wear for the day was always a task Thom approached with relish. As the first boy to complete a Lady's training at the Convent, Thom always took the opportunity to show off his skills in dress, hair, and the refined art of bed-making.

Choosing a dress of sheer blue chiffon, Thom stared critically at his appearance in the mirror. Since the revelation of his true gender over a year ago, Thom had become somewhat of a trend-setter in fashion. This dress was no exception. A single layer of shimmery blue chiffon appeared to be his only covering, but on closer inspection it was revealed her was also wearing a tan body stocking that matched the colour of his skin. This daring style of dress had quickly spread through the younger generation of dress-wearers, to the dismay of the more modest older generation. Young people who were attracted to the dress-wearers however were thrilled with the new fashion.

One such young person was stirring in the bed at that moment. Gary sat up, watching Thom. "You look lovely Thomasina," Gary commented, using the name Thom had used when they first met. "A ray of blood-lust in out otherwise complacent mud-hole."

Thom smiled. Gary's poetry was one of the many reasons Thom had chosen him from his many suitors. "I'll see you at breakfast," he called, as he left for the dinning hall.

Conveniently for the Nobel population of the Royal Palace, the Dining Hall had an All Day Breakfast policy. So no matter how late those of rank slept, they could always find their first meal of the day. At only one hour before midday, Thom was one of the first patrons to arrive for his meal. Selecting a lady-like bowl of cornflakes with onions and Tabasco sauce an a glass of chilled vindaloo sauce, Thom sat down with the Prince.

As usual, Jon was mopping. Ever since his dramatic break-up with Thom's sister, Jon had mopped. He mopped for breakfast. He mopped for lunch. He mopped for brunch. He mopped for dinner. He mopped for supper. He even mopped for several new meals that had to be invented simply to fit in with Jon's mopping schedule.

Thom shoveled some of the cornflakes into his mouth, watching the Prince pensively. It really was pathetic, his all but constant mopping. Taking a drink of his vindaloo, Thom decided to take the Prince into his own hands. He needed cheering up, and Thom thought he had just the right thing to do it.

"You know what Jon?" Thom asked. Jon looked up, having only just noticed that he had company.

"What?" asked the Prince in a voice that meshed somewhere between curiosity and deep depression.

"We haven't cooked for Gary in ages. As his wife and cousin, it is our duty to man the kitchen for him, at least once in a while." Thom grinned. He knew how much Jon liked to cook, but he barely ever got the chance. Thom had just given him all the excuse he needed.

A smile crept onto the Prince's mopping face. "You know what, I think you're right."

Thom took one last sip of his curry sauce. "Well, what are we waiting for?" He stood as Jon did, and the two made for the kitchens, singing.

"High hoe, high hoe, it's off to the kitchens we go! To cook a feast for Gary sweet, high hoe, high hoe high hoe high hoe!"

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A/N: There we go, a beginning! We would like to promise that the long delays between updates of the original will be gone, but we wouldn't appreciate being called liars. But we can promise that there will be more inept plotting, more stolen jokes, and more Thom!

So, for now, let the good times roll!


End file.
